The Tyrant's Return : From Beggar to Sovereign

Chapter 22: The Savior in the Flames

The desperate cry for help pierced through the loud roaring of the bright orange fire. Ethan’s eyes snapped up toward the third floor window. The thick black smoke was rolling out of the broken glass panes, but for a single second, he saw a moving shape behind the heat waves.

Someone was trapped alive inside that burning furnace.

Ethan did not hesitate for a single moment. He did not care that the entire first floor looked like the mouth of a blazing volcano. He lowered his head, tightened the wet cloth around his mouth, and charged straight forward.

His heavy leather boots pounded against the sidewalk as he made a wild, high speed dive right through the shattered glass front doors.

The heat inside the main lobby hit his skin like a physical wall of bricks. It was so intense that it felt like his eyebrows were going to singe off instantly. The air was completely filled with thick, swirling black smoke that made his eyes water and burn.

Wood beams were cracking and dropping from the ceiling, smashing onto the floor in front of him and spraying bright yellow sparks everywhere.

Ethan kept his body low to the ground, using his incredible memory of the building layout to navigate through the dark, blinding smoke.

He ran toward the central concrete stairwell. The wooden elevators were already completely destroyed, turned into tall chimneys of rising flame.

He bounded up the concrete steps three at a time. The concrete was hot beneath his shoes, and the iron handrails were glowing with a terrifying heat. His lungs burned as he breathed in the smoky air through his wet cloth, but his mind stayed perfectly focused. He had to save whoever was upstairs.

He reached the third floor landing and burst through the heavy fire door. The hallway was a complete nightmare of bright orange light and choking darkness. Most of the office doors were already burning down.

"Help!" the voice croaked again, much weaker this time. It came from the very end of the long corridor, inside his late father’s old private archive room.

Ethan sprints down the hallway, jumping over a pile of burning ceiling tiles. He kicked the heavy wooden office door with all his might. The wood split right down the middle under his massive physical power, and the door flew open.

Inside the room, a frail old man was tied tightly to a heavy metal chair with thick, rough ropes. His face was covered in black soot, his clothes were singed, and he was coughing violently, his chest shaking as he struggled to find a single drop of clean oxygen.

It was old Mr. Harris. He was his father’s most loyal personal accountant from three years ago, a kind man who had disappeared right after the grand Vance business collapsed.

Julian’s brutal thugs had found him, tied him up, and set the building on fire to leave him to die in the smoke so he could never talk to anyone.

Ethan rushed over, his large hands grabbing the thick ropes around Mr. Harris’s chest. The ropes were hot to the touch, but Ethan did not care about the pain. He used his immense physical strength to yank the ropes apart, snapping the thick fibers with his bare fingers like they were simple pieces of cheap string.

"Master Ethan?" Mr. Harris gasped, his old eyes opening wide in absolute shock as the ropes fell away. He could not believe that the supreme heir had come into a burning hell just to save a poor old worker. "You came back?"

"We need to go now," Ethan said, his voice loud and clear beneath the wet mask.

The ceiling above them gave a loud, terrifying crack. A massive wooden support beam covered in roaring fire began to tilt, ready to fall right on top of their heads.

Ethan did not waste a single second. He scooped the frail old man up into his powerful arms, lifting him easily against his chest. He turned around and sprinted out of the archive room just as the heavy wooden beam crashed down onto the metal chair, shattering it into pieces.

The hallway was completely blocked by a wall of fire now. Ethan knew they could not go back down the main stairs. He looked to the side and saw a small metal emergency exit door that led down the outside back alley. He threw his weight against the metal bar, bursting out into the cool, wet night air.

He carried Mr. Harris down the iron fire escape steps, his boots clanking loudly against the wet metal grids. The cold rain hit Ethan’s hot skin, bringing an instant feeling of relief.

He reached the bottom of the dark, muddy alleyway and gently laid the old accountant down against a stack of clean plastic crates, far away from the heat of the burning building.

Mr. Harris collapsed onto his side, coughing up thick, dark fluid from his lungs. He breathed in the fresh night air greedily, his entire body shaking with terror and exhaustion. Ethan knelt down in the mud next to him, pulling the wet cloth away from his own face.

"Are you okay, Mr. Harris?" Ethan asked, placing a reassuring hand on the old man’s trembling shoulder.

The old accountant coughed violently for another ten seconds, his chest heaving up and down. The rain washed the black soot down his wrinkled face, leaving pale lines of tears. He looked at Ethan with a mix of deep gratitude and intense, frantic panic.

He knew that the danger was not over yet. He knew the terrifying secret that Julian and the secondary branch were trying to hide by burning the whole block down.

He reached up with a thin, shaking hand, his fingers covered in black ash and small blisters. He did not care about his own physical injuries. He needed to tell Ethan the truth before it was too late.

The choking accountant clutches Ethan's arm: "The ledger showing who killed your father... Julian took it to the gala!"